“Stacy!” shouted the Overlanders.
“Wha—what!” exclaimed Tom Gray as an Indian loped into camp, a rifle in his hand, which he kept pointed in the direction of Captain Gray.
CHAPTER XXIII
A THRILLING DISCOVERY
“Me Cat-foot Charlie. Me come!”
“Yes. He’s the cat and I’m the foot,” answered another voice, and Stacy Brown strolled into camp with his chest thrown out. “I’ve been captured, sentenced to death, and, being the foot, I did some fast footwork, and here I am. Old chap Pussy here found me and brought me back. Oh, no, I wasn’t lost. I never know where I am, anyway. He showed me the way. Who—”
“Our sweet dreams of peace are now at an end,” complained Emma.
Stacy did not heed her words nor the congratulations of his companions who were happier than words could express to have him with them again. The fat boy was interested in the man who lay by the fire.
“Who’s that?” he demanded.
“His name is Murray,” answered Lieutenant Wingate. “He and Jim Haley fought a duel to-day, and Two-gun—that is the man’s name—got a bit the worst of it.”
“Two-gun Murray! Hey, you! I’m wise to you. You’re the fellow that stole my fish—the same person that I clouted over the head. You say he is wounded, Uncle Hip?”